The New Dawn Rising
by CubbiesFan1
Summary: A story set in the not-too distant future. Takes place after a mysterious event, only referred to by the characters as "The Incident". Kind of hard to summarize more without giving more away. All major and minor "good" guys appear and a villainous "group"
1. 1: After the Incident

Author's Note: This takes place in the not-too distant future. I guess it would be categorized as AU, but I'm not too sure. Please read and enjoy. More to come and hopefully soon.

**Disclaimer: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest is owned by Hanna-Barbara. I am not making any money from this, it is solely for fun and enjoyment. **

**The New Dawn Rising**

**By: Sigokat**

_The not-too distant future: 7 years after the Incident_

Jonny Quest stood at the position of attention, his eyes clear and focused on the formation of men that stood in front of him. The ceremony required that he and his men be dressed in full military dress uniform and Jonny smiled inwardly to himself at the sharpness of the men that served under him. His blue eyes shown as his commanding officer paced in front of his men, looking for any infractions, but finding none. Jonny and his men prided themselves in being the best infantry unit in the army and their record in combat proved it beyond any shadow of a doubt to anyone that dared to question their loyalty and dedication.

After a few minutes, the commander turned in crisp movements and made his way forward to stand face to face with Jonny. Jonny did not flinch; he only raised his hand in a sharp salute and addressed his commander formally.

"Sir, third platoon stands ready."

The commander returned the salute and Jonny lowered his hand back to his side once the commander did the same. "Very good, Lieutenant, but there is some business that must be attended to before you receive your next orders."

Jonny had no idea what his commander was referring to, however he showed no sign of confusion. He only replied, "Yes, Sir."

The commander gave Jonny a nod and then turned on his heel and moved off to Jonny's left, quickly moving out of the young man's peripheral vision. A moment later another figure appeared in front of Jonny and as he snapped off another salute he started to realize what was about to happen.

The figure in front of him was a woman, one of his superior officers, and commander of all military forces in the region. She returned his salute and then produced a set of Captain bars from her pocket.

"Let it be known, that on this day, Lieutenant Jonathan Quest is hereby promoted to the rank of Captain; signed under the hand of our Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces. Captain Quest and his unit will report immediately to 1st Battalion where he and his unit will fall under the Battalion as the newly formed Delta Company. Congratulations, Captain Quest and good luck."

Jonny tried to show no emotion as the Lieutenant bars on his shoulders were replaced with his new rank. Once his superior had finished and stepped back, Jonny gave her another crisp salute. "Yes, ma'am. Hells Raiders will not let you down."

She returned his salute and with a sly grin she replied, "Yes, Captain. See that you don't."

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Race Bannon woke from a dreamless sleep, just as he did every morning. He felt groggy and groaned as the old mattress he slept on creaked from too many years of use. Race knew that the small bed was causing him more discomfort than his body could tolerate, but at this point in his life, he had no other choice but to continue to live in the hidden existence that had become his daily routine.

As his feet touched the cold floor he shivered and felt suddenly more awake thanks to the chill that the floor pushed through his body. Race shook his head and arms and headed towards the small adjoining bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, Race felt somewhat refreshed after having taken a lukewarm shower and shaved. On mornings such as these he felt older than he really was, but he knew that a lot of his weariness was due to his own self-pity and his decision to remain under the radar since he had arrived in New Lincoln.

Sweet aromas whiffed through the apartment as Race made his way out of his bedroom and into the living room and kitchen. He stood in his doorway for a few moments as he watched his daughter, Jessie, prepping a small breakfast while whistling a tune that was unfamiliar to the former bodyguard. Ever since the Incident, seven years ago, Race and his daughter Jessie had been constantly on the move, avoiding the newly appointed authorities and generally trying to keep a low profile. It was only within the last year that they had settled down in New Lincoln, with its ever growing populace, where he finally felt that they could stop running. No one in New Lincoln knew who the Bannons were and because of that anonymity they were able to settle down in the small, but halfway decent apartment complex and plan how they would live out the rest of their days.

Jessie must have heard her father's footsteps because she turned in his direction and smiled at the man, "Good morning, dad. How'd you sleep?" She asked as she scrapped what appeared to be some form of eggs onto a worn and fading plate.

Race stretched his arms above his head as he made his way over to the table and sat down. "Oh just fine, kiddo. What about you?"

Jessie eyed her father and Race knew she didn't believe a word he said. "You look terrible, dad."

"Well, we can't really afford much else at the moment."

Jessie stood silent for a few moments, knowing that breaching this subject so early in the morning would once again set her father off. She decided that it was worth the lecture. "Yes, we can."

Race shook his head as he took a bite off the tasteless eggs his daughter had prepared for him. "We've been over this before, Jessie."

"Well, I don't see why you are so against the idea." She quipped as she poured him a glass of water from the kitchen sink.

"You know why, Jes. You know my reasons and I don't want you involved with those people."

"Sooner or later we won't be able to run anymore."

"We're not running now."

"You know what I mean, dad. Sooner or later the war will find its way here, to New Lincoln. What then?"

"We aren't getting involved and that's final, Jessica." Race said with sternness in his voice that indicated to Jessie to drop the subject.

Jessie sighed and strode out of the kitchen, heading for the front door of their apartment. Race watched her as she grabbed her jacket and reached for the doorknob. "Where are you going?" He asked, but knowing too well where she was headed.

"Out of here, dad."

"It's dangerous out there."

"We can't live our lives cooped up in this shithole."

Race jumped to his feet, anger flushing his face. "Jessie, this is all we have."

"Well, maybe you're happy with this, but I'm not. I'm tired of living in hiding, being afraid that someone might come looking for us. Well, not anymore, dad. You may not want to join the resistance, but I do."

"Jessie, those people are nothing but trouble. They'll get you killed."

Jessie shrugged on her coat and threw her arms in the air. "Is that any different then how we live now? You've already let them kill us!"

"Jessie…"

"I'll be back later, dad." Jessie said as she cut her father off and flew out door before he could reply.

Race watched his daughter go, angry at her, but more at himself for allowing the argument to continue to fester to the point it just did. Race sighed heavily and sat back down in the chair, no longer possessing an appetite, but finishing the now cooling eggs anyway since he knew that wasting food was not a luxury they could afford.

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_5 years ago; 2 years after the Incident_

Hadji Singh trudged along through the mud behind the wheeled cart, his hands bound tightly with the rope that was attached to the back of the cart. His eyes were cast downward watching each step carefully in the murky and uneven terrain. He tried to stay in cart's tracks, but the others that were with him pushed him out of the way, sometimes so forcefully that he fell and soaked his already ragged clothes even worse with new mud and grime. His turban, a sign of his faith, had long ago been confiscated by his captors and he had no protection for his head from the rain and wind. His hair was a mess and the men that held him would not allow him, or the others, to properly care for themselves any more than was required to keep them alive.

Hadji hated his existence and even though he continued his meditation and prayers in secret he lost more faith every day that he remained a slave. He had been in the clutches of these men for what felt like eternity, but if he was still judging the passage of time correctly it had only been for about two years. Still a long time to be a slave, but not too long that he couldn't remember what his life had been like before the Incident. The slopping and sucking of his steps kept him moving and it was only when he heard the grunts of the miserable donkeys that pulled the cart did he realize that the caravan had stopped. Hadji hoped that the slavers would give them a moment to rest and eat, but he knew better than to sit down until instructed to do so. When he was first captured he had witness another new captive sit prior to being instructed and the slavers whipped the poor man almost to death. Hadji was determined to not feel that same wrath if he could avoid it. He also hoped of escape, but even if he could find a way to break free of the brutal men, he had no idea where they were heading or where to run to. At least with the slavers he was given some food.

The commotion around the cart caused Hadji to lift his gaze and he saw that they were stopped inside a town. It was one of the larger towns he had seen since being captured and the sights and smells were tantalizing to the young man. He saw people milling about, others moving along the road in front of them completely ignoring the slaves. Hadji figured that the slavers had been hired by the local mayor to perform some sort of manual labor, which seemed to happen more often now since the climate was starting to change back to what it was like prior to the Incident.

Hadji watched as two of the slavers came around the back of the cart and started unloading supplies and Hadji knew he was right; another long, grueling day of forced labor. A crowd had begun to form around the caravan and Hadji heard the taunts of the townspeople. No one liked slaves, but they would use them in order to avoid doing work themselves. Hadji didn't want to hate those people, but he could not help the feelings that rose in his heart of them. A couple teenagers, probably only a few years young then himself began to tease the slaves and when their words appeared to have no affect they started hurling small rocks at the group. Hadji cowered and moved closer to the cart to stay out of the path of the flying objects.

"Alright, move along. Get out of here." One of the slavers yelled at the boys. Without looking, Hadji recognized the voice of the Head Slaver. He didn't know the man's real name, but knew that the man made a substantial living off of the misery and pain of others. The Head Slaver was a fat man, with a graying beard that flowed down onto his chest. His hair was long and neatly combed, but his face was marked with scars and sores and his teeth were beginning to rot. He also wore fine clothes and his fingers were adorned his jewels and rings. Hadji found the man repulsive, but he was also amused that ever since the Incident people valued worth in strange ways. Since so much had been destroyed, people lived and traded what they could. Hadji wondered if the Head Slaver knew that some of his jewelry was actually made for women or whether the man even cared.

Hadji grabbed a pick axe from the cart and stood waiting further instructions. He glanced up at the crowd and saw that the taunting boys had left, obviously quickly bored by the slaves, but a small group of people still remained. One man in particular caught Hadji's attention, mainly because the man was staring at him. Hadji felt a ping of anxiety from the man's gaze and he looked away, but when he glanced back the man was still staring at him.

The man stood about six feet tall and was dressed rather plainly, but Hadji could tell that the man's clothes were decent quality and guessed he must dress that way on purpose. The boots the man wore were firm and looked fairly new, as well as the khaki pants he had on. He wore a worn, but nice jacket zipped up over a hooded sweatshirt which the man had pulled up over his head, the lip of the hood hanging low over his eyes. He also wore a dark mask over his nose and mouth and Hadji wondered if it was meant to protect his lungs from the dust and debris that floated constantly through the air or if it was meant to conceal his identity. Hadji surmised it was properly a bit of both. He had both his hands jammed into the pockets of his coat as he watched Hadji move around the cart. As the man continued to stare at Hadji, he thought there was something familiar about the man, but Hadji couldn't figure out just what it was. Hadji was jolted out of his thoughts by a rough hand pushing him in the back.

"Move it, kid." Another slave barked.

Hadji grumbled, but did not protest as he moved away from the cart. He eyed the masked man as he walked away and saw the man turn and stride over to the Head Slaver. Hadji tried to watch what was happening, but had to act as if he was unconcerned, since slaves were not allowed to meddle in the business of the slavers.

A few moments later, Hadji heard the Head Slaver shout to one of his men, who quickly snatched Hadji up by the shoulder and half carried, half dragged him to the Head Slaver. The man tossed Hadji down into the mud and laughed at the boy's misery.

"Why are you so interested in this one?" Hadji heard the Head Slaver say and he dared a glance up to see the masked man talking to the Head Slaver.

"No business of yours, slaver." The man replied. Being closer to the masked man, Hadji felt that tinge of recognition again, but it was hard to make out the man's voice beneath the mask.

"It is my business." The Head Slaver replied, obviously not appreciating being spoken to in such a manner by a commoner like the one before him. "He belongs to me."

Hadji saw the masked man staring down the Head Slaver and something that he did not understand must have happened because the Head Slaver flinched and backed away from the other man. The man then looked down and Hadji.

"Stand up." The man ordered.

Hadji went to stand, but was kicked back into the mud by the other slaver. The kick wasn't hard, but he groaned from the blow connecting with his weak body. The slaver was obviously amused by his abuse of the boy and as he laughed he went to kick Hadji again, but was quickly met with a sharpened blade pointed at his throat, the tip of the blade applying just enough pressure to draw blood.

"Raise your foot again and you'll regret it." The masked man said who Hadji saw was holding the knife. He had never even seen the man pull the knife, let along get close enough to the other slaver. Hadji wondered again about the mask and what this man was hiding.

"How dare you." The Head Slaver roared. "I know your kind…assassin."

The man glanced at the Head Slaver and replied. "Then you know that I mean business. Call off your dog…that is unless you are happy with one less man to have to pay."

The Head Slaver looked as if he was actually contemplating letting the assassin kill his man, but eventually he thought better of it. "Back off, Marcus. Go back and check on the other merchandise."

The other slaver was visibly angered at his humiliation, but he did as instructed and Hadji saw that while the masked man lowered his blade, he still kept it visible.

"Now, I told you I want to buy this slave from you." The masked man said.

"Why? What do you want this one for? I have better ones than him."

"Again, that is my business, not yours. What's your price?"

"I am curious what an assassin wants with a slave."

Hadji saw the other man's eyes narrow above the mask. "If you ask me one more time, slaver, I will simply kill you and take the boy. I'm sure your men wouldn't be too heartbroken though."

The Head Slaver gulped and must have heard the seriousness in the assassin's voice. "Fine. You can have him for five thousand."

The masked man glanced at Hadji and back at the slaver. "Five thousand and you forget this transaction ever took place."

"What's one slave to me anyways?" The Head Slaver shrugged.

"Exactly," The assassin hissed. "And don't try anything funny as we leave."

"Assassin's never turn their backs I heard." The Head Slaver mocked.

"True, but just in case you would cause me trouble, I brought company." The masked man replied and raised his empty hand, sending a signal to a hidden compatriot. As soon as he did a small red dot appeared on the Head Slavers chest. "Not all assassins are as cordial as I am. You even make a slight move to scratch your filthy ass my man will gun you down before you know what hit you. Once we are a safe distance away, you can go back to your filthy trade."

"I don't need to be lecture by a man that kills for money." The Head Slaver spat. "Give me the money and take the boy then get out of here."

The masked man reached into his jacket and withdrew a wad of bills, larger than Hadji had ever seen. The man tossed the wad of cash at the Head Slaver and then grabbed Hadji's bound wrist. "Remember, slaver, this transaction never happened."

Hadji heard the Head Slaver mumble, but he was obviously too consumed with collecting up the bills that they assassin had thrown at him. Before he knew it he was being pulled away from the caravan by the assassin and off into the crowded streets of the city. Hadji started to wonder if his situation had indeed taken a turn for the better or if he was now in for something far worse.

The masked man led the boy into an alley where he knelt down and gently sliced the ropes from his hands.

"Don't worry. You're safe now." The masked man said and Hadji saw his eyes were softer, gentler now then they had been when he was talking with the slavers.

Hadji nodded and looked down, not sure why the man had chosen him.

The man spoke again, gently and soothing again. "It's okay. You're not a slave anymore, you can speak freely."

"But…" Hadji started, "you paid for me, so I am still a slave."

The masked man shook his head, "No, I didn't pay for you. I paid for your freedom, Hadji."

Hadji almost fainted at the sound of his name. He staggered, but kept his footing and he saw that man was grinning under the mask.

"You know me?" Hadji proclaimed. "Who are you?"

"An old friend of your family." The man said as he stood and pulled back his hood and lowered his mask.

Hadji was shocked, but relieved to see the face of someone he knew from before the Incident. Someone that he never had even thought about in all these years, yet here this man was, and he had saved his life. Hadji was so relieved that he actually lunged forward and embraced the dark haired man in a tight embrace.

To Be Continued…

Author's Note: I left Jonny's part a little shorter then intended since I do not want to reveal too many surprises in this introduction chapter. I hope anyone reading this enjoys it and any reviews and/or advice, criticism is welcome. I hope to be able to write more on this soon.


	2. Coming Together

_Present Day, 7 years after The Incident_

Doctor Benton Quest shuffled through the cafeteria, clutching the steel tray and held what the organization considered food. He glanced around the crowded room looking for a place to sit and eat when his eyes fell on a couple of his coworkers seated at a table towards the center of the room. He made his way through the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone else. For a group of scientists and doctors, this crowd could be more vicious than the soldiers that ate in the adjoining room. The last thing Benton wanted was a confrontation.

Benton made his way to the table and set the tray down a little harder than he had intended, causing the metal table to resonate a loud pitch. The others at the table looked at him as he smirked sheepishly and took a seat.

"Bad day today, Benton?" One of the other men asked. His name was Doctor Henry Livingston, which always got a few chuckles from his colleagues, and he had worked in the medical bays treating the soldiers that arrived wounded from the battlefields.

"What day isn't a bad day around here?" Benton replied as he prodded the food on his plate, trying to determine what exactly it was they were being served.

Livingston shrugged, "It's better than being out there…on your own."

"Is it?" Benton replied as he met Livingston's gaze.

"What are you talking about, Benton?" Another coworker, a female psychologist named Doctor Leisa Sheffield, asked suspiciously.

Benton sighed heavily. "I don't know how much more of this I can take. It's just that this war…it's no longer a war…it's…" he let the though go unfinished. Ever since The Incident, Benton was desperately searching for his son, Jonny, but after seven years he still had no idea where the boy was, or even what his fate had become. He refused to believe that Jonny was no longer alive and that belief fueled his desire to be reunited with the only family he had left. But after seven years and no information Benton was starting to have doubts and those doubts drained his energies and was starting to affect his work, which was never a good thing.

Livingston and Sheffield exchanged concerned looks before turning back to Benton. "You know that what you are talking about is…forbidden, yes?" Livingston asked quietly.

Benton nodded as he took a bite of the mystery meat on his tray. He no longer felt hungry. "Don't worry, old friend, its just exhaustion speaking." Benton said, trying to reassure his friend that he was not contemplating treason.

Benton felt Livingston's gaze on his face and then the man nodded and quickly changed the subject. "I hear that the new facility is almost complete. Some of us will be transferring there within a few weeks."

"Which one?" Sheffield asked, "The one by New Lincoln?"

Livingston nodded as he was sipping from his water bottle. "It's supposed to be state of the art. It's also supposed to be…"

"Supposed to be what?" Benton asked trying to hide his concern.

Livingston glanced around and then lowered his voice. "I overheard some of the soldiers in the medical facility the other day. They were talking about an upcoming assault."

Benton sucked in his breath and then prodded his friend for more information, "On New Lincoln?"

Livingston nodded his head and replied, "Supposedly a large resistance is forming there and the Supreme Commanders want to squash it before anything becomes of it. They already have Black Sect Assassins in the city looking for information and overtaking the ghetto."

"What about the Reds?" Sheffield asked.

Livingston shrugged, "No idea if they are even within the city. The Black Sect hasn't reported seeing any from what I heard from the soldiers."

"That doesn't mean they aren't there." Benton pointed out.

"True, but they don't stand a chance against both the Black Sect and the Army." Livingston countered.

"Are you going?" Benton asked.

"Damn right I am," Livingston replied. "And you both should come as well, if it's even an option."

Livingston suddenly quit talking and straightened up. Benton followed his line of sight and saw that two soldiers were approaching the table. Soldiers and scientists were not allowed to intermingle during meal times, so the sight of the two suddenly aroused suspicions amongst the personnel in the cafeteria.

Benton noticed that the two men were in full combat gear, their identities concealed behind their darkened helmet visors. Both carried assault rifles, but the weapons were slung across their backs. The group tried to act normal and as the soldiers got nearer they saw the men's heads turn in their direction, but one must have said something to the other through the internal helmet communications devices because the first man nodded and they continued past the table.

Benton slowly bent his head to watch the soldiers, but quickly turned back as to not arouse suspicion. "Wonder what they are doing here?"

"If it doesn't involve us then it's better not to know." Sheffield said.

Suddenly a commotion was heard behind the group and as they turned, they saw the two soldiers grab another scientist and haul him out of his seat. "Is that O'Bryan?" Sheffield asked as she squinted to see what was taking place.

"I believe it is." Benton replied. Doctor William O'Bryan was a weapons research analyst that Benton had worked with over the past few years. He did not know the man well and had no idea why the soldiers would come and take him out of the cafeteria in front of such a large crowd. "Whatever this is about, it cannot be good."

The soldiers were half dragging, half carrying the man out the same direction they had come. As the threesome approached, Benton could hear O'Bryan pleading that he had done nothing wrong, but the soldiers remained stoically silent as they hauled the man away.

"Something bad is happening here." Benton said as the soldiers exited the room with their captive. "Something very bad."

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"Why should we take you?" The young man sneered. He was dressed in heavy clothes and had a old military style rifle across his back and a pistol belt around his waist. Jessie guessed he couldn't have been more than eighteen years old.

"I found you, didn't I?" Jessie countered. "And besides that, I'm a good fighter."

"How you found us is questionable, but the real question is whether or not you are trustworthy." The man replied. They stood in a small room, lit only by a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. A small group of people milled around behind the man, who was obviously the leader or was at least posing as the leader. Jessie felt uncomfortable being unarmed in a room full of armed people, but she stifled her fears and refused to leave without being accepted.

"You can trust me. I have no love for the army and I want this war to end."

The man crossed his arms over his chest, trying to appear bigger than he was as he stared down the Bannon girl. "We all want it to end, but how do we know you can fight? Or that you will fight when the time comes and not run."

"I have nothing to runaway to. I'd rather die fighting than live in hiding and fear the rest of my life."

"The army is no joke. They're highly trained professionals and fighting them in open ground will not be easy."

"I never thought it would be easy." Jessie stated matter-of-factly.

The man nodded and turned towards his followers. They conversed so quietly that Jessie wondered if they were even speaking. After what felt like hours the man turned back to her and spoke, "Come back tomorrow and we will let you know our decision."

"I want an answer now." Jessie's voice was firm.

The man placed a hand on the butt of the pistol in his belt and growled, "You'll have your answer tomorrow or else we end this discussion now in a manner that you won't like." To solidify his point he removed the pistol from the holster, but he did not raise it.

Jessie stood still for a few moments and then decided that if she wanted in, then she'd have to follow their instructions. "Fine. I'll be back tomorrow." And with that she turned and left, not giving the young man a chance to make any more idle threats.

Once the girl was gone, Peter holstered his pistol, turned towards the far corner of the room, away from the group, and spoke to the shadows.

"You really think she's worth it?" He asked to the darkness.

"Oh yes," came a reply from the darkened corner, the voice was female. "She's true to everything she says and if we can get her, then we can get her father as well."

"Who is she and who is her father?" Peter asked, a tinge of apprehension in his voice suggested that he was afraid of losing his standing in the group to this newcomer.

"Her father is the man that can band this group together and lead us to victory." The voice replied. "I've known Race Bannon for a very long time, since before The Incident, and until today I feared he was dead."

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_Present Day, 7 years after The Incident_

Hadji's eyes fluttered open his meditation exercises complete. As the room came back into focus, Hadji took in his surroundings and found they were the same as before he had started his exercises. For the last five years, ever since he was freed from the slavers, Hadji had been living in the small house in the small city of Iberia. It is the same city where he had been freed and the same city where he was learning the arts of the Red Sect Assassins.

Hadji stood and stretched his arms over his head, then made his way from his room into the small common room that served as both a kitchen and dining area. "Good morning." Hadji quipped as he entered the room.

Seated at the dining table were his new foster family, Philip Corbin and his wife Sarah. Phil Corbin had rescued Hadji from the slavers and Hadji quickly learned that his savior was an assassin with the Red Sect Guild. Having known the man prior to The Incident, Hadji was amazed to have met him again and even more surprised at the life style the man had taken. But Hadji quickly learned that the Red Sect was different, it only fought against the Black Sect and the Army, whereas the Black Sect and other freelancers killed indiscriminately for money and fame. Corbin and the Reds were different. At first, the older man did not want Hadji involved at all, but after much pleading, consideration, and training, Hadji convinced the man to train him.

"Good morning, Hadji." Corbin replied as Hadji took a seat at the table with the man. Phil's wife, who he had met after The Incident, was cooking breakfast for them.

"Anything today?" Hadji asked.

Phil shook his head as he sipped what smelled like tea. "Nothing yet."

Hadji had tried to get the man to tell him what had happened after The Incident that led him here, but even after five years, Hadji had learned very little of Corbin's recent past. One night, about two years ago, he saw the man come back late, probably after a job, and had accidently left a small box out on the table, the same box that he always kept on his person. Hadji had taken it, intent on giving it back to him as he followed him to his room, but curiosity overtook him and he tried to open it. The box was booby-trapped and Hadji had been injected with a lethal poison. After administering the antidote and waiting for Hadji to recover, Corbin was angrier than Hadji had ever seen the man, even before The Incident, and he had scolded Hadji for invading on private matters. After that, Hadji never saw the box again and never broached the subject with him again.

Corbin suddenly set his cup down and fell silent, Hadji knew the man must have heard something, but Hadji could hear nothing at first. Then suddenly the distant rumbling met his ears as well.

"You hear that?" Corbin asked the teen.

Hadji nodded. "Yes, I do. It sounds like military vehicles."

Sarah was glancing out the window and reported, "Armored vehicles that look to be headed this way." Suddenly all thoughts of breakfast were gone and the woman look at her husband, then at Hadji, and bolted to the corner closet.

Corbin was on his feet in seconds and was hurrying to grab his clothing and gear. A quick glance out the window confirmed that the vehicles were headed in their direction.

"What's going on?" Hadji asked desperately.

"We have to go." Corbin said without looking up from what he was doing. "Get your gear and get ready to leave. Now!"

Hadji ran off to his room and got his gear that Corbin had given him over the years. When he returned he saw Corbin dressed in his usual "work" clothing with the addition of a rucksack on his back. One thing that caught Hadji off-guard was that the man was holding an assault rifle, a weapon he never used in his work, and that Sarah as also armed as well.

"You have your blades?" Corbin asked as Hadji emerged.

"Yes I do." Hadji said as he patted the weapons hidden beneath his clothing.

"Good. Take this as well." Corbin thrust a small pistol into the boy's hands. "Tuck it away and it's only for emergencies."

The sound of the vehicles was right outside their building and they could all hear shouting through the window. Corbin snuck to the window and a quick peek told him that the assault force was there and getting ready to attack.

"How'd they find us?" Sarah asked worriedly.

"I don't know," Corbin replied. Hadji then saw that both Phil and Sarah gave the boy a quick look and he could see the truth in their eyes.

"No," Hadji said, "They're after me?"

"Let's go." Corbin said, ignoring the boy's question.

"We can't all make it." Sarah said the sounds outside becoming louder.

"Yes we can." Phil replied, knowing what she was implying.

Corbin heard more commotion outside and another glance showed him the seriousness of the situation, one of the female Commanders was on the ground with the assault force. "Shit." He murmured.

"What is it?" Sarah asked as she checked her weapon's magazine.

"It's one of _them_." Corbin replied. "We have to go."

"Take Hadji and get out of here." Sarah said trying to hold back her tears as she opened a hidden door that Hadji did not even know was there.

Corbin shook his head, "We're not leaving without you."

"If you don't then we all die." Sarah replied.

Corbin gritted his teeth as he pushed Hadji to the hidden door. His wife followed them both to the door and hugged Hadji, "Goodbye, Hadji."

Hadji controlled his hurt and his fear as he heard heavy footsteps approaching. "Goodbye, Sarah." He croaked.

Corbin shook his head at his wife, but knew what had to be done. "Hold them off as long as you can."

"I will. Get him out of here. Get him to New Lincoln."

Corbin nodded as he choked on his despair; he knew he would never see his wife again. "I will. I promise."

"I love you, Phil."

"I love you too, Sarah. I always will."

He hugged and kissed his wife, not wanting to let go, but the banging on the outside door shattered their embrace and Sarah pushed him into the hidden door, closing it behind her.

Tears streaked Hadji's cheeks in the darkness and he felt Corbin's hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the door, and leading him off into darkness. "Come on, Hadji." The man whispered and even without seeing his face, Hadji knew that Corbin had just sacrificed more than any man should in order to save his life.

Silently, Hadji wept.

**To be continued…**

**A/N; Sorry for the delay, I have been extremely busy with work and have had little time to actually write. I'm hoping to work on this story some more the rest of the week. Hope you all enjoy and please review and let me know what you think. **


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